s you see, sir; and never a word since. He must have
traveled all night."

"He did not explain?"

"Oh, no, sir; he on'y called for his cold meat and his ale, sir, and--"

"You see, his old mother ain't noways in his confidence, master," said
one of the countrymen on the bench.

"Nor you in mine, my friend," said Hugh Ritson, facing about. Then
turning again to the landlady, he said: "Tell him some one wants to
speak with him. Or, wait, I'll tell him myself."

He stepped into the room with the sleeping man, and closed the door
after him.

"Luke Sturgis," said the landlady, with sudden austerity, "I'll have you
know as it's none of your business saying words what's onpleasant--and
me his mother, too. What's it you say? Cloven hoof? He's a personable
gentleman, if he has got summat a matter with a foot, and a clever face
how-an'-ever!"

CHAPTER III.

Alone with the sleeping man, Hugh Ritson stood and looked down at him
intently. The fire had burned to a steady glow of red coal without
flame. There was no other light in the room.

The sleeper began to stir with the uneasy movement of one who is
struggling against the effect of a fixed gaze bent upon him. Then, with
a shake of the head and a shrug of the shoulders, he sat up in his
chair. He tossed his hat back from his forehead, and a tuft of wavy
brown hair tumbled over it. His head was held down, and his eyes were on
the fire. Hugh Ritson took a step toward him and put one hand on his
arm.

"Paul Drayton," he said, and the man shrunk under his touch and slowly
turned his face full upon him.

When their eyes met Hugh Ritson saw what he had expected to see--the
face of Paul Ritson. In that low, red light, every feature was the same.
By the swift impulse of sense it seemed as if it could be the same man
and no other; as if Paul Drayton and Paul Ritson were one man.

Drayton got on to his feet with an uncertain shuffle, and then in a
moment the hallucination was dispelled. He kicked, with a heavy boot, at
the slumbering coals, and the fire broke into a sharp crackle and bright
blaze. The white light fell on his face. It was a fine face brutalized
by excess. The features were strong, manly, and impressive. What God had
done was very good; but the eyes were bleared, and the lips discolored,
and the expression, which might have been frank, was sullen.

"I don't wonder that you were tired after your journey; it was a long
one," said Hugh Ritson. He affect